


Tobacco

by darylfiend



Series: Flora [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Love and trust, M/M, Smoking, just a little bit rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darylfiend/pseuds/darylfiend
Summary: Daryl is happy doing whatever Paul wants him to.





	Tobacco

Daryl turned his head to exhale. Paul had given him shit for getting smoke in his hair, had even picked up the habit so he couldn’t taste it on Daryl’s tongue. He blew the cloud toward the window while balancing his cigarette on the ash tray on the sill to let the rest of it smoulder like incense. It was his first crop. The barely-cured tobacco was the sweetest thing he’d tasted in years, and he was going to enjoy it. 

Adjusting the blankets with his free hand, he settled back into a comfortable spoon, nose buried in sleek, mousy locks. The slender body in his arms shifted, pressing back against him with a low hum, a gentle sigh, and fond silence. Gravity slowly settled over them, and Daryl felt as if his tired body was slowly turning to stone, spectres of dreams flickering behind the curtains of his mind, until a quiet voice startled him back from the brink. 

“What happened to us?” 

And now his heart was racing with sudden uncertainty. He cleared his throat, voice coming out like stone on stone.

“What?” 

“It’s been so quiet,” he murmured, breaking the snug embrace to turn and nuzzle against too-long scruff and warmly flushed cheeks, voice low. “Used to be we couldn’t go a day without fucking like it was our last night on earth.” 

As Paul’s smile touched his own, Daryl felt his heart skip, chasing off the twinge of guilt in his chest. It wasn’t untrue. He wouldn’t say his desires had ebbed, they’d just never been as urgent as Paul’s, content to simmer. He remembered being Paul’s age, and knew he would understand eventually, that while he loved the affection, he also loved his sleep. The novelty of rest had yet to wear off as they found themselves caught up in a luxurious lapse in violence. 

“Was this mornin’ not enough? Mm.” Paul’s hand was rubbing him through his pants, and he felt his body warming in response.

Paul’s smile stretched his sweet mouth, tongue poking out to trace his upper lip as he shook his head. 

“You were perfect. You didn’t cum, though.” 

“Don’t always got to,” Daryl murmured, flushing further at the memory. He liked offering Paul his mouth in the morning. Made him feel good to serve him when the rest of him needed a break. Maybe he liked to deny himself sometimes; made it easier to work himself up when needed. Like now, heart stumbling in his chest as Paul’s intimate handling occupied his awareness. 

Paul’s brow twitched, his expression otherwise flat, studying his response from where his face rested, squashed against Daryl’s inner arm. Daryl thought his cheeks were cute, and pressed the other one down with a finger to complete the chubby chipmunk look before it was broken by a wide grin and a snort. Paul quickly snapped his teeth at Daryl’s finger, then rolled on top of him, straddling his hips to grind against his belly.

“What if I want you to?” he rasped, voice deliberately husky, forehead pressed down against Daryl’s. 

Daryl’s response was a lewd groan, tilting up to exhale against his ear, snagging the cartilage between his teeth and digging blunt nails into his waist. His dick wasn’t as hard as the one poking against him, but it was getting there, caught at an awkward angle against his thigh until he straightened his pyjama bottoms out and arched more directly into his lover’s erection. 

Paul loved the slow swell of it, gave him something to grind into and toy with and build up his own anticipation as he decided what he wanted to do with it. As much as Daryl loved to be fucked, he was well hung, and being filled by him was just too good, something Paul missed when he hadn’t felt it in a while. Breathy pleas tumbled from his lips as his hips ground to a halt, pressed flat against him. His mouth, his ears, his shoulders and chest and thighs, everything about him felt good. He needed all of it closer, harder. 

“Please, what,” Daryl asked, trying to sound innocent while sucking his neck and tonguing the hollow of his clavicle, kneading his fine ass through the fabric. 

The rude question made his dick throb and his legs quake.

“ _Please_ fuck me.” 

Daryl inhaled sharply, hooked his fingers into his crack and nearly tore through his briefs, scraping his hole like a desperate animal. Paul yelped, slapped his hands away to yank their scant clothing down and continue, kissing him hard.

He hoped Daryl would pull on his hair, too. He was perfectly rough, stimulating without ever leaving him hurting. It had taken time to coax it out of him, so many whispered assurances, too sweet and uncertain at first for Paul to feel insulted, too thrilled by the trusting connection they built to lose his patience. 

The synthetic lubricant he’d scavenged was used up long ago. They had to use cooking oil now. It left telltale spots on the sheets, but it made his skin soft, and didn’t leave a bad aftertaste. He didn’t mind the smoke that night, not after sucking his own mess off Daryl’s fingers, and not as he fell asleep, crushed into the mattress beneath his hunter.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write another little smutty thing i don't know ok? i was like "i'll do a bunch of little blurbs that are loosely floral related because they like flowers" and quickly decided that was gaudy and didn't make any sense. this is some kind of distant future epilogue thingy that was still being batted around on my desktop and i'm tired of seeing it so um. merry holidays, desus sweeties!


End file.
